


Of Dragons and Direwolves

by lilgulie5



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cheating, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fire & Blood, Forbidden Love, Missing Scene, Royalty, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-03 16:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17287496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilgulie5/pseuds/lilgulie5
Summary: Queen Alysanne Targaryen travels North on Royal Progress while her husband, King Jaehaerys, deals with the Archon of Tyrosh and the Prince of Pentos. During her stay alone in the North she forms an unusual and unexpected bond with the flinty Lord of Winterfell, Alaric Stark and learns firsthand that not everything said about him is true. A look at what might have occurred during her six months alone in the North.





	1. Alysanne I

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't resist writing more for these two...The more I delve into Fire & Blood the more I think it just *might* have been possible, or at the very least, fun to imagine. Here is my take on that part of Fire & Blood. (This is rated M for later chapters...) 
> 
> Thank you to Sharon for the magnificent moodboard! Thanks to her and Shawn for letting me yammer on and on about these two and how much I like the idea of them!

 

 

 

Silverwing began her descent after thrice circling the great fortress of Winterfell. There were no throngs of people lined up to greet her as there had been at White Harbor. Instead, as Alysanne Targaryen climbed down from her dragon the only men to emerge from the castle gates was a man she assumed was Alaric Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and two younger men who looked to be in their teens. When she approached, she removed the glove from her right hand and extended it to Lord Stark when he dutifully, if not reluctantly, bent the knee to his queen.

 

“Lord Stark, I presume?” Alysanne said. He nodded.

 

“I hope you brought something warmer than that,” Alaric Stark replied as he rose back to his feet and looked her up and down.

 

 _What a queer thing to say to greet your queen,_ she thought, smiling politely and taking in the sight before her.

 

Alaric Stark appeared to be a fair amount older than she was and a good deal taller. Se reckoned that he might even be taller than Jaehaerys. Where her lord husband was lean and nothing but skin and muscle, Lord Stark seemed to be broad and solid, though not fat. His black hair brushed the tops of his shoulders and he wore it half back in a knot at the back of his head. He had a dark beard as well that concealed the sharp lines of his jaw.

 

“Your beast will have to remain outside the castle gates as well,” he added, gesturing to the dragon. “I’ve not been to Harrenhal, but I know what happened there just the same.”

 

Alysanne wanted to tell him that Lord Manderly had been right about him, but simply followed him and his sons inside the castle walls and into the great hall. They shared a meal together and with each passing moment it became more and more clear that Lord Stark was displeased that the King was not with her. Alysanne was not sure she could blame him. She wondered how it must look to their subjects that their king chose to treat with foreign rulers rather than travel north. She knew the importance of settling matters between Tyrosh and Pentos. They both held important trading relationships with Westeros, but none of that seemed to matter. Alaric Stark felt slighted and she would need to play her part to smooth that over before Jaehaerys arrived.

 

“When d’you suppose the rest of your retinue will arrive?” Lord Stark asked.

 

“I’m not sure,” the queen admitted. “However long it takes for them to travel north from White Harbor.”

 

“Well you shouldn’t stay too long. This is the North, Your Grace. We can’t host a thousand people for very long.”

 

Alysanne laughed aloud at that and told him she scarcely had a hundred in her retinue.

 

“And for the time being,” she added, taking a sip of the strong ale provided. “You just have me.”

 

He showed her to her chambers and tried to make some light conversations. The corridors of Winterfell were dark compared to those of the Red Keep in King’s Landing. Everything about it seemed a bit mysterious, as if it hid secrets around each corner.

 

“If you were expecting balls and masques and dances, you have come to the wrong place. I’m afraid I’m not sure how to entertain a queen.”

 

“If I wanted any of those things, I could have stayed in King’s Landing,” Alysanne replied as she inspected the room. “I came to the North to see our Kingdom. I’d be most happy to see how you Northerners occupy your time.”

 

“Aye…” he nodded, apparently content with that response.

 

“My only regret is that we never came earlier. I’m sorry I was never able to meet Lady Stark.”

 

Alaric Stark froze up when she mentioned his deceased wife, his face becoming an unreadable mask once again.

 

“She was a Mormont of Bear Isle, and no lady by your lights, but she took an axe to a pack of wolves when she was twelve, killed two of them, and sewed a cloak from their skins. She gave me two strong sons as well, and a daughter as sweet to look upon as any of your Southron ladies.”

 

“You misjudge me, Lord Stark. She sounds like just the woman I should’ve liked to know,” Alysanne said kindly. “A daughter?”

 

“Alarra,” he replied. “She was with her Septa when you arrived, but I’ll present her to Your Grace when we sup tonight.”

 

“Then I shall look forward to it.”

 

As promised, Lord Stark presented his twelve-year-old daughter, Alarra, to the Queen at supper that night and she could see how fiercely proud he was of her. The girl was indeed beautiful with dark brown hair and beautiful emerald green eyes, the likes of which Alysanne had never seen before.

 

She asked for a chair to be brought over so that Alarra might sit beside her while they supped. It was so much easier to make small talk with the girl than with her father. She found that Lord Stark’s daughter was naturally inquisitive. She had spent her entire life living in one place. She knew little of the world outside of Winterfell or the Winter Town and she listened with keen interest as Alysanne told her about her children.

 

Mention of Daenerys, Aemon, and Baelon, made her ache and swell at the same time. She missed them fiercely. Dany was old enough to understand that her mother was doing her duty as the queen, but Aemon and Baelon were not. Aemon began wailing when she kissed him goodbye and Baelon, ever his big brother’s shadow, had followed suit. She had never been away from them for so long and she had no idea how long her sojourn in the North would last, but at least in the young Stark girl she had a friendly face and a sympathetic ear.

 

* * *

 

 

“She’s younger than I expected, Father,” Alarra remarked as they walked back to her chambers. “And so beautiful, too.”

 

“Mmhmmm.”

 

“Did you know that she has three children?”

 

“That many?”

 

“Yes, and the youngest is just a baby still. It must be hard to be so far away from them and from the king.”

 

“I suppose it must.”

 

“She said she misses tucking them in every night and telling them stories. Her oldest is a girl named Daenerys and she’ll be five soon.”

 

“She told you all that?”

 

“Yes, she’s so very nice, Father.”

 

* * *

 

 

Matters were not going well for Alysanne. Every step she tread was wrong. Every word she spoke to Alaric Stark was wrong. Just when she thought she was making headway with the flinty Warden of the North, she said something that he obviously took offense to. After being in the North only a handful of days, she was beginning to feel that she already overstayed her welcome.

 

The latest misstep? She had offered to help arrange marriages for Lord Stark’s sons who were already or very close to marrying age. Alysanne had suggested the daughters of great southern lords and before she could even mention the young women by name, Alaric Stark cut her off.

 

“ _We_ keep to the Old Gods in the North,” he said. “When my boys take a wife, they will wed before a heart tree, not in some Southron sept.”

 

 _The Starks may have a direwolf upon their sigil,_ she wrote to Jaehaerys late that night. _But he is as stubborn as a mule. I did remind Lord Stark that_ _many_ _noble houses in the South still keep the old gods and rattled off every last one I could remember. That shut him up and he promised to think on what I said and bring the matter up with his boys, though I doubt he truly means it. He is a hard man, though his family and his people love him well enough._

 

_I miss the children and you. Give Dany, Aemon, and Baelon a kiss from Mama. Tell them that although it is Summer here, it snowed yesterday morning! It was all melted by the afternoon._

 

_Your Alysanne_

 

* * *

 

 

But even ice melts and yields to the gentle warmth of the sun. So, too, did Alaric Stark begin to soften towards his queen. One day while she was braiding Alarra’s hair and regaling the girl with stories from King’s Landing, Lord Stark stopped by the queen’s chambers unannounced.

 

“Lord Stark,” she beamed, her smile incandescent. “We weren’t expecting you.”

 

“Queen Alysanne was telling me stories about how House Targaryen fled the Doom of Valyria!” Alarra said. “And then when she and the King came to the throne.”

 

“Hard to believe that was scarcely ten years ago, Your Grace. It seems much longer.”

 

“It does indeed. But I think you did not come here to listen to tales and stories,” Alysanne said.

 

“Ah...no. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be going out with a hunting party to the Wolfswood on the morrow for a few days.”

 

“That sounds delightful. I don’t know that I have anything suitable to wear for hunting, but if you give me leave to use one of your horses I could go to the Winter Town and find something.”

 

“I didn’t...I mean, of course, Your Grace. You’ll be traveling with a handful of crude men though.”

 

“What do you hunt with?” Alysanne asked, ignoring his comment. “A bow or a spear?”

 

“...Both actually.”

 

“It’s been a few years since I’ve handled a bow, but I used to be quite good.”

 

“Right,” Lord Stark replied slowly, clearly not anticipating her excitement. “We ride out at first light. I’ll see that you have a horse and a man to ride to Wintertown with you.”

 

“Thank you, my lord. I look forward to it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Late that night, Alysanne laid in bed waiting for sleep to take its hold, but it seemed to never come. Her chamber was warm, despite the bite in the air outside once the Summer sun had set. _How strange the North is,_ she thought. _To even be cool in the Summer._ Lord Stark had explained that the granite walls of Winterfell were heated to warm the chambers. The castle had been built upon natural hot springs and the water was piped into the walls to keep out the chill. She marveled at the innovation, something even the Red Keep did not have.

  
She was looking forward to the prospect of going out on the hunt. Perhaps it would give her an opportunity to get to know Lord Stark a bit better. Perhaps a little sport would be good for both of them. She had never expected him to offer the invitation and, from his expression, he seemed surprised she had accepted it. _Perhaps_ , she thought as she closed her eyes and turned on her side. _Tomorrow will be a fresh beginning._


	2. Alaric I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Alysanne accompanies Alaric and his friends on a hunting trip to the Wolfswood. Over the course of the trip he begins to see her in a new light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 2! Thanks to everyone who has read Chapter 1 and left some constructive feedback. I really appreciate it. I told myself that I would write shorter chapters for this fic and then this chapter happened. I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Thanks again to Sharon and Shawn for letting me run all of my crazy ideas past them!

 

Alaric Stark bristled as he sat astride his horse in the courtyard next to the stables and waited for the queen. He had secretly hoped that she might have changed her mind after all about hunting with him and two of his close friends. Letting out a huff of air, he thought about what had transpired the previous day. Truth be told, he had no intention of inviting the queen, quite the opposite really. It was supposed to be a way for him to escape her presence for just a few days, but she misunderstood him.

 

_Or had she really?_ he wondered. _Or did she sniff out my plan and spoil it?_

 

None of that mattered. The queen had made up her mind and had gone into the winter town to find suitable clothes for the hunt. If she insisted on coming with him, perhaps there were ways in which he could make her regret the decision. If everything went the way he hoped it would, the queen would be ready to turn tail and head home on her winged beast by the time they returned from the Wolfswood.

 

“Here’s her highness now,” Thom nodded towards the stables where the queen was riding towards them.

 

“Apologies,” she said brightly.

 

Alaric felt his lip curl involuntarily. He knew of very few people who were so chipper so early in the morning. He rose with the sun out of habit, but took no joy in doing so.

 

“If you’re ready then, Your Grace,” he nodded to her.

 

“Is this all of us?” she asked. “Just us few?”

 

“Were you expecting some grand retinue, Your Grace?” Alaric replied. “We stalk and hunt our own prey. We don’t have squires do the dirty work for us here in the North.”

 

“Nor do we in the South, Lord Stark. When you said _hunting party_ I just envisioned a larger group. That’s all.”

 

Alaric led their group northeast from Winterfell into the Wolfswood along the kingsroad. They rode in silence for much of the morning through a sprawling forest of oaks, evergreens, sentinels, soldier pines, and hawthorns. The cover was so dense it was a wonder at times that any sunlight passed through the leaves at all. Alaric was at the front of the party with the queen close to his left. Thom and Merton took up the rear. Once they turned off the kingsroad, he allowed himself to glance over at the queen.

 

Queen Alysanne was somehow both younger and older than he expected her to be. He had seen her once before when he traveled to King’s Landing with his father and brother for the wedding of the dowager queen and Rogar Baratheon, but he remembered little and less of her other than the grand entrance she and Jaehaerys made upon their dragons. They had not been introduced and she had been but a girl then. Now she was clearly a young woman. She was younger than him to be sure, but when she spoke, her words carried a weight and a wisdom of a woman twice her age. A man would have to be blind to not find her beautiful, but she was not at all what he expected.

 

What he knew of Targaryens was their fabled Valyrian features: the silver-blonde hair and purple eyes. The queen had hair the color of honey that hung in loose ringlets down her back when it was not in braids or in a net as it currently was. She had blue eyes, not purple, but they were so light and so clear he could only think of them as icy, though not unkind. She was a far cry from many of the hearty, buxom women of the North. He smirked when he remembered Thom observing that she had _small tits, but a fine arse_. He had reprimanded his friend for that slight, uttered outside of the queen’s earshot, but he added that Targaryens should have an ample arse to sit upon their dragons. They had all laughed at that. She was a pretty lass who did not belong in the North.

 

“I apologize again for my tardiness this morning,” she said suddenly, turning her attention towards to him as if she knew he was thinking about her.

 

“We’ve made up the time, Your Grace,” he replied with a tight smile. _Gods I hate all of this fucking pretense._

 

“I was desperate to get a raven off to King’s Landing,” Queen Alysanne continued, though Alaric would have preferred silence. “Today’s my daughter’s name day. She’s five-years-old today.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“I told her I was going on an adventure today. Perhaps one day I’ll bring Daenerys to the North. I think she would like it a great deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

They arrived at the hunting lodge just past midday and Alaric was glad to be able to climb off his horse and walk about, stretching his long legs. The lodge had been in his family for generations. It was an old, but sturdy two level stone lodge with a hearth, table, common area, and pallets separated by wood and fabric screens.

 

“Nothin’ grand, Your Grace,” he said as he unloaded the horses. “But it should suit us for a few days.”

 

“I’m sure it will, Lord Stark,” the queen replied as she dismounted. He watched as she reached into a pouch at her waist and slipped a sugar cube to her mare.

 

“Is that what you feed your dragon after a day’s journey, too?”

 

“No,” she replied seriously. “Silverwing usually gets a goat, or a Lord I’m disgruntled with.”

 

She held his gaze for a beat and he held his breath before she cracked a smile and shook her head.

 

“I knew you were jesting,” he insisted.

 

“Did you though?” she wondered aloud and slipped the strap of her back over her shoulder. “Lead the way, Lord Stark.”

 

“You should have seen the look on your face, Alaric,” Thom laughed as he clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I think Her Grace had you for a minute.”

 

“She did not...Make yourself useful and get a fire started, why don’t you?”

 

He watched again as the queen surveyed the space around her, searching for signs of discontentment, but found none. He waited for her to complain about the small, close quarters, but he wanted in vain. Instead, she set her pack onto the table and sighed.

 

“So, when do we hunt?”

 

“I thought...well, I thought you might want to settle in first. You will take the bed down here and we’ll sleep upstairs.”

 

“That’s just fine,” she queen replied. “Though I have the feeling that I’m putting you out, Lord Stark.”

 

“You are,” Alaric replied honestly.

 

“Then I shall have to make it up to you by killing a deer or an elk.”

 

He could not stop himself from laughing aloud at that. “Your Grace, if you do that, I’ll skin it myself and make you a cloak from its hide.”

 

“Trimmed in rabbit fur?” she asked. “I’m looking forward to it.”

 

“Well someone better shoot something or we don’t bloody eat,” Merton said.

 

“Nah,” Thom scoffed. “We’ll get some rabbit and there’s a stream nearby. We can fish for something at least.”

 

The first night they did just that. Before night fell, Alaric sent Thom to catch their dinner while they continued to wait for a rabbit or two that never came.  He did not want to be out long past dark. There were wolves and wild boar in the aptly named Wolfswood and despite his distaste for the king, he did not want to have to send a raven to Jaehaerys with word that the queen had been gored to death by a boar. It would be such a stupid way to go.

 

Alaric still blamed Jaehaerys for the death of his brother, Walton. If the king had not pardoned the men who would become the mutineers of the Night’s Watch after the wars of Maegor, his brother might still be alive and would still be Lord of Winterfell.

 

The next morning, he found the queen to be up and ready for the hunt before any of the men. When he came down the stairs from the loft she was crouched next to the fire, stoking it back to life from the embers it had died down to overnight. Her hair was pulled back into a simple bun and if he did not know any better he might have taken her for a Northern lady. He cleared his throat and drew her attention away from the fire.

 

“Good morning, Lord Stark,” she said, standing up and brushing her hands off on the skirt of her gown.

 

“Mornin’, Your Grace,” he replied with a nod. “I hope you slept well.”

 

“I did indeed, surprisingly.”

 

“What? Was the bed not to your liking?”

 

“Oh no, my lord. It was not that. It’s just something I’ve struggled with my whole life. The first night I sleep somewhere new I usually have a difficult time falling asleep, but perhaps all of the time spent in the fresh air yesterday helped me fall asleep.”

 

“Ah, I see. Well there’s some cheese and bread for breakfast. Eat up before Thom and Merton come down and finish it all off.”

 

“I will,” the queen smiled. “Afterall, I’ll need my strength if I’m going to bring down a deer today.”

 

“Still convinced you will?” Alaric asked, hooking his thumbs into his belt. He had to admit, her downright confidence was impressive.

 

“I’m counting on it. I want that cloak you promised.”

 

“We’ll see about that.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Seven fucking hells,” Merton mumbled.

 

Alaric stood with his mouth agape as he watched the queen lower her bow and smile with satisfaction.

 

It was late in the afternoon and the sun was beginning to set. He was ready to send Thom off to the stream to catch their dinner once again when a grand eight point buck came grazing into a clearing. Before he knew what happened the queen had drawn her bow, taken aim and hit the buck right on the shoulder, dropping it instantly. She began to move towards the direction of the felled animal when Alaric put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at it and then glanced up at him.

 

“Wait just a moment, Your Grace,” he whispered. “You’ll want to be sure it’s died before we approach it.”

 

“Yes,” she nodded. “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

That night they ate rabbit they had caught in traps while the deer the queen killed hung high from a tree outside, out of the reach of any wolves or bear who might be on the prowl. They laughed, they ate, and they drank. When they had finished eating their supper, they played cards with one another. Alaric was surprised when the queen held her mug out to be filled for the second time with some of the dark ale they had brought with them.

 

As the night wore on, they began trading stories. Alaric noticed that the queen listened silently as each of them told their tales. Truth be told, he did not know much about her early life other than that her older siblings have been killed and that she had her mother and mother were held hostages on Dragonstone while her older sister, Rhaena, was forced to marry Maegor.

 

“How’d you get that scar by your eye?” Thom asked.

 

“You fucking know how I got it,” Alaric replied, rolling his eyes at the queen who grinned into her cup in return. “You bloody gave it to me when we were lads. Last time I ever let you win at something though.”

 

“And here I thought you were in some gallant fight,” the queen said.

 

“Neither of these reprobates have ever been in a real fight or battle,” he replied, gesturing to his friends.

 

“ _None_ of us have been attacked or anything of the sort,” Thom added.

 

“I have,” Queen Alysanne replied quietly.

 

“What?” Merton asked.

 

The queen set her mig down and shrugged. “I said, I have.”

 

It was clear from their reaction that Thom and Merton did not believe her. They chuckled under their breaths, but the queen did not. Nor did Alaric.

 

“You don’t believe me,” she said flatly.

 

“No, Your Grace,” Merton shook his head. “I don’t.”

 

“Maidenpool, 52 AC. You’ve heard of Jonquil’s Pool? It’s said to have healing powers. Thousands of women have bathed there and when the king and I passed through on progress, I wanted to as well. I was newly with child and I thought it would help me throughout the course of my pregnancy. But there were sisters there who thought my marriage and my child were abominations. No sooner had I stripped myself naked did they draw daggers and set upon me to try and kill me.”

 

The men listened to her account without saying a single word.

 

“All three of my ladies were wounded. One of them, Rosamund Ball, was stabbed in the stomach and died three days later. If it was not for them I would have surely perished. I escaped with my life, but my babe, my son, was born too soon and Aegon died within three days. If it had not been for those women, I could have bathed in the pool unencumbered and he would have lived.”

 

“Your Grace…” Alaric began, stunned by her story. Word had not reached the North about the young prince. He slapped Merton across the back of his head.

 

“Apologies, Your Grace,” the man said, not daring to raise his eyes to his queen.

 

“The Seven take and the Seven give,” the queen said simply with a sad smile. “Or so they say. The followed your my daughter was born.”

 

“Daughters are often balms for broken hearts,” Alaric nodded, thinking upon the way Alarra had been a comfort to him when his wife died.

 

His daughter had been but nine years old when the gods took her mother, but she never left his side- like a faithful pup. His sons grieved the loss of their mother and Alaric had sent them away to be fostered for a year at White Harbor. He hoped that being away, among boys their own age would help them move on and forget. He would not- could not- send Alarra away.

 

Alaric stayed awake long after his friends had started to snore, thinking about the queen’s story. When first she came to Winterfell she had said that he misjudged her. Over the last few days, he begrudgingly had to admit that she might have been right. She was formidable. It was no wonder the smallfolk loved her so. They had never had a queen like Alysanne. Though he dreaded the thought of her company on the hunting trip, he found that he enjoyed her wit and easy laugh. He had given her every reason to be rude or standoffish to him and she had been nothing but kind. She had not made demands or asked for anything during her stay at Winterfell and asked for no special treatment while hunting alone with men she barely knew.

 

_Aye_ , he thought as his eyelids grew heavy. _Perhaps I have misjudged her._

 

* * *

 

 

Alaric awoke early the next morning. As he lay on his pallet he could hear Thom and Merton snoring soundly. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he sat up and looked around. Dim rays of sunlight were filtering through drawn curtains over the windows. He sat up and reached for his shirt, pulling it on over his head. He cracked his neck and combed his fingers through his hair before tying it in a knot at the back of his head. It did not sound like the queen was about downstairs just yet and Alaric thought he might be able to slip downstairs to use the latrine outside.

 

He rose from the pallet and tiptoed barefoot down the stairs in just his untucked shirt and breeches, but stopped in his tracked halfway down when he saw the sight before him. The queen was awake and reading by candlelight at the table. She was seated in one of her chairs with her feet propped up on another, clad only in her nightgown and robe, both of which had dipped off one of her shoulders. So engrossed was she in whatever she was reading that she did not yet notice him standing there.

 

He should have turned around and tried to sneak back up the stairs but he could not. Her felt like a moth drawn to a flame until the queen’s gaze drifted up from the pages of her book and met his. She seemed more surprised than startled and slowly closed her book and held it to her chest.

 

“Good morning, Lord Stark,” she said with an amused smile. “Were you spying on me?”

 

“No! I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he stuttered. “I was just...I mean, I did not know you were awake.”

 

“It’s alright. I woke early and decided to read for a bit.”

 

It was only then that she realized her nightgown had fallen from her shoulders and moved to rearrange it.

 

“What are you reading?”

 

He had no idea why he had asked her that. He should have shied away and left her alone, but Alaric found himself walking down the rest of the stairs.

 

“The Jade Compendium,” she replied, handing the volume out to him.

 

“The what?” he asked, reaching for it. He wondered if she had any idea how thin her nightgown under her robe was. If she did, she certainly did not seem to mind, but he averted his gaze all the same.

 

“The Jade Compendium. Legends and stories from Essos and the Jade Sea.”

 

“Never heard of it. You lugged this book with you?”

 

“It’s one of my favorites. I’ve read the stories dozens of times and they never seem to grow old. I wanted to pack light when I left King’s Landing so this is the only book I brought with me.”

 

“You enjoy reading?”

 

“I do. I enjoy all sorts of books. Stories and histories alike. A queen _must_ read. She must know the history of all of her people. I confess there is so much I don’t know about the First Men.”

 

“The fact that you admit there are things you don’t know means you’re a good ruler.”

 

“Does it?” she quirked her eyebrow up. “I’m a queen. Jaehaerys has the power.”

 

“Tell that to the people at White Harbor,” he said, handing the book back to her. “Your Grace.”

 

“Alysanne. Those I count as friends call me Alysanne, in private at least. Titles are well and good, but Seven Hells, are they tedious at times.”

 

“Alysanne,” he repeated, testing the word out on his tongue without her title preceding it. “Is that what we are now? You come on a hunting trip and we drop titles?”

 

“I’ve been staying with you just over a fortnight now. I’ve dined with you, laughed with you and your friends, heard you all snore, curse, and piss...shall I go on, _Lord Stark._ ”

 

“Alaric,” he replied. “If it pleases you.”

 

“Alaric,” she nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ve won again,” Alysanne said as she laid down her hand of cards.

 

“Seven Hells,” Alaric cursed as he flung his cards onto the table, leaning back in his chair as he watched her stack her winnings into neat little stacks. It was late and they had been playing for the better part of two hours.

 

“Lord Manderly said you were niggardly with your coin, now I think you’re just bad at cards and that why you keep your purse strings so tight.”

 

“Mandley is a prick.”

 

“He’s not and you know it. Why else would you send your sons to foster there?”

 

“Don’t go using my own decisions against me now.”

 

It had been just over a fortnight since they returned from the Wolfswood and the easy friendship they had forged there continued to strengthen as the days went on. The queen’s retinue had finally arrived from White Harbor and Alaric found that he did not mind their presence, hosting a feast for them despite what he had said when Alysanne first arrived.

 

They often dined together with his children and went out riding or to visit the winter town. As the days passed he found himself seeking out her company and being disappointed when he would knock on her door in the Guest House and find that she was not within. He would find her about in the yard speaking with servants and visitors alike. She even spent time in the smithy once, sleeves rolled up, learning from the blacksmith who was making armor.

 

Before he had taken the time to get to know her, he had felt slighted that the king had not accompanied her. Now, he felt increasingly relieved that Jaehaerys continued to be delayed in King’s Landing by the Prince and the Archon.

 

“Another round?” Alysanne asked, beginning to gather up the cards.

 

“Wait,” Alaric replied as he reached out to cover her hand with his own. She glanced down at their hands and then back up to him, but made no attempt to pull away. He quickly released her hand as if he had touched something hot. “There’s something I wanted to show you. A surprise...you might say.”

 

“A surprise? I’m intrigued.”

 

He led her from her chambers in the Guest House down the dimly lit corridor to a room that he had not spent much time in since he was a child. His daughter spent a good deal of time there herself, but he did not think Alysanne had ventured there yet, despite the time she had been with them. He stopped in front of the door and turned towards her.

 

“Close your eyes,” he instructed.

 

“What?” she replied, with a huff of laughter.

 

“Alysanne, trust me. Just...close your eyes.”

 

He could see her weighing his strange request in her mind before she gave in to the request and closed her blue eyes.

 

“How am I supposed to know where I’m going?”

 

“Hold a hand out,” Alaric said and when she had done so he took her small hand in his and opened the door. “Keep them closed.”

 

“ _I am_.”

 

He moved them into the dark room and realized that there were no candles lit. The only light came from the full moon that shone outside the window.

 

“Wait right here. Just a moment longer. I’ll tell you when to open your eyes.”

 

Alysanne sighed and crossed her arms over her chest in mock impatience as Alaric took a taper off the table and went back into the corridor to light it from one of the bright torches that hung from the wall. Bringing it back into the room he moved from taper to taper until all of the candles were lit and the room was filled with a warm glow.

 

“Alright,” he whispered, taking his place in front of her again. He touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Open them.”

 

She opened her eyes and Alaric watched as she looked around the room in wonder as she took in the sight of floor to ceiling bookshelves that lined the walls. Turning around to see it all for herself, Alysanne stepped towards one of the shelves and ran her fingers across the spines of the books as a smiled spread across her face.

 

“A library,” she breathed, almost reverently. “You never told me you had a library here.”

 

“I may have been remiss in my duties as a host then,” he smiled. “The library of Winterfell is yours, Alysanne, to rummage through however you please for however long you please.”

 

“This is incredible.”

 

“It’s not much, it’s no Citadel to be sure, but I thought you might find something here you would fancy to read while you’re here.”

 

“The way things are going that may be a very long time,” she said with a hint of sadness.

 

“I think I wouldn’t mind that,” he replied perhaps a bit too quickly.

 

“When I first arrived I thought you couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.”

 

“Aye, so did I. But you were right. I misjudged you, Alysanne.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she smiled, putting her hand up to her ear. “Do you think you could say that again?”

 

“You heard me the first time.”   
  
“If it helps, you’ve not quite turned out the way I expected you to, either.”

 

“No?” he asked, closing the distance between them. “How’s that?”

 

“You’re far kinder and much more clever than men like Lord Manderly give you credit for. This library is such a gift. A very thoughtful gift and I’m thankful to be allowed to rummage through it, as you say.”

 

“Don’t go spreading word of that around the North now. I’ve a reputation to uphold.”

 

“It’ll be our secret then,” Alysanne vowed in a hushed tone, gazing up at him with a sly smile.

 

“Aye,” Alaric nodded, unable to stop himself as his knuckles brushed across her cheek and he tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered on the back of her neck and he waited for her to swat it away, but she never did. “Our secret.”

 

Alysanne’s gaze dipped from his eyes downward and back up again before she took a small step closer to him. She was so close that her chest almost grazed his and he could feel the steady thrum of her heartbeat in her pulse point below his thumb. Without a second thought he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. He kept the hand on her neck light.. To his relief and surprise her mouth moved against his, kissing him back until a barely audible moan escaped her lips and seemed to shake her from the moment. She pulled away from him, her lips slightly parted and her eyes wide.

 

“Alysanne,” he muttered. “I’m so-”

 

“Don’t,” she shook her head and held up a hand. “I...I-I need to go.”

 

He wanted to reach out to her, to stop her and ask for her forgiveness. Instead, he watched her step away from him and turn her back as she fled from the room. As he dragged a hand across his face he could hear her feet on the cobbled floor as she retreated down the corridor.

 

* * *

 

 

That night Alaric dreamt he deigned to approach Silverwing. When he reached out to touch the dragon he was drenched in a wave of fire and when the flames subsided it was not the dragon standing before him, but Alysanne herself. She was naked and covered only with the wisps of remaining flame. When he reached out to touch her again he awoke with a start. He was startled but not frightened by the dream. He had stood in the midst of flames but was not consumed. As he caught his breath, Alaric thought of the events that transpired that evening.

 

He wondered if he should have followed her, but he did not trust himself. He had acted on feelings that had been slowly building ever since the night at the hunting lodge when Alysanne told them about escaping the attack at Maidenpool with her life. What was more, she had kissed him back. He could still feel the way her lips had felt against his. She might have wanted it just as much as he did, but she had the good sense to stop herself before they made a mistake. He was not sure what he would say to her when he saw her that day, did not know how he could find the words to apologize again for something he was not truly sorry for.

 

None of that mattered. That morning while he broke fast with Alarra a  servant brought a message to him. Before he even broke the seal he knew it was from the queen.

 

_Alaric,_

 

_I have decided to take my leave of Winterfell for the time being. I fear I have become too comfortable and have forsaken the reason for my visit to the North. I will be making my way to visit the men of the Night’s Watch at Castle Black. Thank you for your hospitality._

 

_Until my return,_

 

_Alysanne_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Comments and feedback and much appreciated! :)


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